


Greetings From California

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Canon Compliant, Creampie, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Homesick Lance (Voltron), Light Angst, M/M, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Smut, Switch Keith (Voltron), Switch Lance (Voltron), Top Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26693716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Keith gives Lance feelings of that October, even in space when the beach is a concept that lives more on a hologram or foreign planet than he would like. Keith is both the breeze outside and the warmth inside, and Lance can almost imagine how a nice evening walk with the boy would be like when there’s far less to worry about.But although his partner can be warm around the edges, his lips and eyes still strike Lance with that same shocking, inexplicable sensation that only a horizon on Mission Beach could bring.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 162
Collections: Anonymous





	Greetings From California

**Author's Note:**

> Got carried away with existential analogies, as always.
> 
> Please check out The Neighbourhood’s [’Wiped Out!’](https://open.spotify.com/track/4Tp4gRuDo1sIMP6gH9LwuH?si=izVWogfJQPyBqTE_rBbJiQ) and [’Chip Chrome & Mono-Tones’](https://open.spotify.com/album/4uNgt1uQs6wZRm4giB3shX?si=W9VEi4KmTmmC-wdkxMzONA) albums.

When Lance was twelve years old, he went on a vacation with his mom and his twin sister Rachel to Mission Beach in San Diego, California.

It was October 10th, the water was cold as shit, and along with that shocking freeze came the overwhelming realization of how far the horizon could stretch into the vast unknown of crisp blues and mellow, stormy greys. And along with that, the sheer rush of euphoria at the very fact that _everything_ means _nothing_.

He thought of how at peace he could be with dying. Because the world would not stop for a second, the horizon wouldn’t cease to exist and sand would continue to be tread upon by not-so-weary souls that see opportunity in crashing waves rather than his perception of complete and utter finality.

The air would still carry new beginnings and scrape dry leaves down the pavement in the fall while people took brisk walks and chattered about things so human, like family affairs and recipes that leave their mouths tinged in sweet delight. Back in their homes there would be flickering scented candles and sappy throw pillows and jazz music that makes their heads dizzy and content.

Humanity would live in utter oblivion that the world was not made for them, but they were made for the world. And only some might notice before their last chokes or sighs or hums of their last dying breaths.

Keith gives Lance feelings of that October, even in space when the beach is a concept that lives more on a hologram or foreign planet than he would like. Keith is both the breeze outside and the warmth inside, and Lance can almost imagine how a nice evening walk with the boy would be like when there’s far less to worry about.

He would probably tuck his hands away into the crooks of either elbow, shrug his shoulders high because he somehow manages to live with such a tense posture there’s never a moment where Lance mustn’t reach out to knead away at the tightness around his neck— or at least has the urge to, and can only stubbornly stow away the instinct because their relationship still hasn’t reached past the confines of either bedroom. Their team is none the wiser at least, and quietly patient for the news at most.

He knows they’ve been poor at staying secretive lately. Lance had once tucked his face away into the tufts of hair at Keith’s nape, the latter standing hunched over debriefing records and paying no mind to his boyfriend’s lazy embrace from behind. Lance lifted his head, pressed kisses to that mess of hair like a hummingbird nosing at a flower. _One two three._

And then caught sight of Hunk shuffling into the doorway with a shade of pale bewilderment shut down the entirety of his face. Because not long before was Lance feigning nonchalance at Hunk’s chattering of _“Keith seriously does_ ** _not_** _seem like the romantic type. My brain would probably fall out if he ever ends up dating someone.”_

Looks like Hunk’s head was, inevitably, going to be empty.

Lance had felt his own face turn an embarrassing shade of beet red, especially when Keith had apparently not noticed that extra presence and had the mind to lift a hand to Lance’s, then press his palm over the _finally_ relaxed stretch of muscle over his beating heart.

Hunk is terrible at keeping secrets, but this time, Lance doesn’t have it in him to care too much. After all, there’s a certain pride he takes in knowing their fierce and scowly leader has a soft spot for him in particular, even when Lance is unsure of it, he knows an unspoken _I love you_ when those gestures come about.

And although his partner can be warm around the edges, his lips and eyes still strike Lance with that same shocking, inexplicable sensation that only a horizon on Mission Beach could bring.

The hot gusts he breathes out between their mouths during the late hours of the night give Lance that particular thrill. He swipes his tongue and bears deep like those churning, cold waves ready to claim Lance as their own, even after getting a taste up to only his ankles. Keith consumes every expanse though, up Lance’s shivering legs and in between, drawing gasps and moans that he really can’t help and the other is well aware of it.

So the noises are overlapped by attempts to tame and eventually drown back into desperate, marathon-ridden breaths. They’re kissed away, or at least meant to be, but Lance feels like he’s actually drowning and he wants his head out of the water and back above the surface.

Lance swipes his clammy hand up the sheets and takes hold of Keith’s hip, slowing his thrusts that make for a pace he just _knows_ he won’t be able to stand with the certain possibility of his sounds being heard, regardless of fairly thick bedroom walls.

 _“Keith.”_ Not sweetheart, or baby, or darling, because he needs to be listened to right now, even if it’s for something as small as this.

Keith lifts his head up from where his attention was turned to the hurried grip on his hip and slows to a stop. His bangs hang damp around his face, and the divets of muscle over his shoulders soften when his rushed lust turns to concern. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice clear and navy eyes wide and innocent.

Lance can’t help his own small amused smile after a few seconds, but he doesn’t have that extra air to laugh since Keith is leaning low just to meet his gaze in the dark, and by default does his weight take a toll on him. No brainless _“You gonna cum?”_ or anything of the sort. Kudos for where those priorities lay.

“Mm,” Lance hums since he’s not sure what to say yet. He feels himself clench around Keith’s cock when he mindlessly shifts around, and that hum turns to something a little more rich. He feels Keith stir. “You’re heavy.”

Keith takes no time to lift himself and sit back to ease away. Lance already misses the close proximity; he should learn to pick between the water and sky.

He lazily reaches up and takes a pinch at Keith’s nipple just to tease before his hand is swatted away. But he feels the other, still harder than ever, even something so fleeting is still a result of knowing this man so well.

“Evil,” Keith huffs with an eye roll, then he wraps a hand around Lance’s length with a devious, vengeful smirk just to drag up and thumb at the tip’s slit in an _unfairly_ more effective way than Lance’s little prod.

 _“Mnn!”_ Lance’s back arches, unconsciously feeling his hips roll into that eager spark that's got that heat reeling back into the pit of his stomach and almost forgetting what his next move was meant to be. It’s hard to stay in line, walk straight through his heady and desperate need just to be sober enough to finish the way he wants. Keith feels so _good_ ; he’s filled where he’s most vulnerable and instead of being scared, he’s genuinely turned on and craves more of what’s to come.

“Let’s— Let’s turn over.” He licks his lips, pressing his ass up into every one of Keith’s slow pushes, and feels his hole slide down again and again like it’s got a greedy mind of its own.

“ _We_ turn over, or _you_ turn over?” Keith asks all sultry and utterly convincing. God does it really fucking count when he takes the reigns like this.

“You’re such—“

“Maybe think about being a _good boy_ first and tell me what’s best, yeah?” his boyfriend proposes. Lance whimpers, he feels the patch of skin on his abdomen grow wetter. “Because your little hole is just as pretty as that face.” Keith grinds in again, taking either of Lance’s asscheeks and spreading them wider just to shamelessly gaze down with a look of sheer _hunger_ , like the sight of his cock all stiff and snug is a drop of water in the desert that Keith would kill for just to swallow down all for himself.

Lance’s breath stutters clumsily down the stairs of all kinds of turned on. Fighting embarrassment is a losing battle by now, but he sweeps together some confidence from where his hand clutches at the one against his side.

He overtaken again, in that moment, with the knowledge that being consumed by Keith isn’t something that’s meant to be avoided or defeated, even if it’s just for the time being.

He nods hesitantly. “Y-yeah.” Then slides himself off Keith’s cock despite having to mourn that deflated, albeit brief moment of being left empty and wet from the slickness of lube and pre.

He sits up, enough to be a breath away from Keith’s mouth that plays a sinful game with those words, and yet somehow bears such a heavenly taste when he pulls Lance in by the nape just to leave him unknowingly breathless again.

“Won’t be heavy on you this time,” Keith murmurs and Lance feels him smile. He chuckles after they break apart.

“I don’t mind,” Lance finds himself saying as his nose dips forward just to tickle the curve of Keith’s cheek. He feels a hand tighten against his hip: a warning, but he knows Keith’s boundaries better than anyone and has confidence with the fact that he always becomes an exception. “Just don’t kill me.”

“Was I about to kill you earlier, then?”

They’re always challenging each other like this, and oftentimes Keith will act in spite of Lance just because he knows there’s a hidden request in there somewhere. Still, “Alrighhtt,” he sing-songs. “Maybe I just wanna be slow tonight, got a problem with that?”

Keith’s grip is still unrelenting and Lance finds himself keening a little by it as he’s kept firm in his place; dominance can rile him up from feeling so shamefully satisfied. So much so, their training sessions together had hilariously thrown Keith into utter frustration because Lance couldn’t help taking any kind of hit like it was meant for the sake of his own pleasure. The most memorable times of it had them stumbling down the hall into the nearest bedroom (his own) for a good swing at just how much Lance could take from what his boyfriend gave. Keith ended up riding him into oblivion, smacked the side of his ass raw, and stuffed two fingers in his mouth, All the overwhelming intensity made his vision white out, and the next moment Lance was cumming with his eyes rolled back and hips uselessly squirming from beneath as his wrist yanked their binds from the bedpost even tighter.

_“Even when I’m taking your cock, you’re meant to be commanded. Isn’t that right? You like being a good boy for me?”_

Fuck did it never get tiring, even when their roles switched and Keith could take Lance’s name calling for sluttiness with the same pleasure Lance soaks up at praise. Any night was a wild card, especially starting outside the privacy of a bedroom and getting risky against their running rule of keeping secret.

It’s got Lance biting into his arm right now after he’s flipped over and getting drilled into at a quick and adamant pace, almost immediately against his wishes of getting fucked good and slow because he’ll admit it, the adrenaline rush of damn near anything has been ranked the highest of turn ons like the peak of an addiction that just never seems to end.

His skin is blazing and tight and swiped down in sweat, yet not nearly as wet as his hole stuffed and slick, drawn tight in hunger from all the continuous slamming. It’s so good—

“ _Fuck_ , so good, Keith _please_ ,” he whines, and has the mind to be grateful he’s only got enough wits to say it quietly through the narrow stretch of his vocal chords.

Keith doesn’t waver and pulls Lance back with his blunt nails pinched around the globes of his ass and another hand valiantly latched on his hip. He’s always bringing in a tinge of pain like that, usually the first drops before an oncoming storm of aggression.

Lance would say the most pleasant part of this, a thought that has a certain pool of feelings stirring away in the pit of his stomach, is the range they’ve widened sex into for as long as they hit the bed within the first month of dating. Because honestly, he’d been horny well before then for their team leader. And something so amusing about it is knowing the others are beyond oblivious to how they haven’t been dating only a few months.

It’s been a year.

A year of fooling around to (there’s no better way of saying it) eventually making love and building up a good deal of freakiness along the way.

“So needy tonight,” Keith breaths, “but I know you’d be crying without your little hole getting filled no matter the size.” He slams his hips at an angle and Lance swears he sees stars. “Bet everything feels nice and big to you, so _tight_.”

Lance moans from another direct pound into his prostate. His toes curl and shoulders bunch up, every damn time he feels good like this he gets the urge to shoot away from those little prods igniting sparks too much to handle. All his squirming earns a good smack and being manhandled more like a thing meant to be used than treated with decency. Fuck decency… for now.

He bites into the pillow and moans again, the thrusts start to turn erratic and he knows Keith is getting that creeping intensity in his cock that grows closer to that telltale burst of sweet stinging pleasure.

“Remember that time in the hallway?” Keith asks suddenly, and Lance almost rolls his eyes because there’s been _plenty_ of hallway incidents. Before he can ask which, Keith continues through a labored breath.

“You railed me against the wall, had me squirming like a whore for you.” He swallows. Lance grips the sheets from newfound excitement at the idea that Keith is somehow getting off to the memory of himself getting fucked good. “You filled me up with your cum, had me feeling so full I was _desperate_ for a plug just to get fucked easy later.”

“Yes— yes _mmmfuck_ , I remember, baby.” Lance clenches around the other’s cock as the thrusts turn shallow and that tip hits at his prostate.

Keith gives the kind of moan that always comes with an unhinged jaw and his throat bared, Lance knows the image so well he sees it in his mind before even turning back to look. Then, his boyfriend looks back down through stray bangs hanging like shredded curtains that conceal a slinking predator. Lance licks his lips.

“I’ll do it to you now,” Keith says. “Pump you nice and full with my cum, have you ready to use whenever I want.” Oh _fuck_. “Get that filthy hole all loaded just for me.”

“ _Yes_ _yes_ Keith— _Anhh_ I’ll take it!” Lance pleads. “Fill me up _please_.”

Keith yanks him back again and his pounding is turning to constant quivers deep inside Lance’s hole from how shallow they become. “ _Mmh_ , gonna cum.” He grabs a handful of ass again to spread wide and plow deeper. “Take it baby, be a good boy for me.”

Lance hangs his head low and breathes out heavily. “I’m always good for you.”

That’s what seems to do it, because the next moment he feels those spurts of warmth deep inside him and rub away at his sweet spot to the point where it has his back arching, ass pushed back to collect every last drop of Keith’s load as it's fucked into him nice and raw. 

“ _Hhhnn_ , so good, you fuck me so good—“

Lance’s head snaps back from a yank by the hair, and he all but moans and whines even louder as Keith jackhammers his cock like there’s no tomorrow, just to throw himself into overstimulation as Lance does his best to milk every stretch of the length he gets.

Then there’s another prod at the ring of muscle of his hole’s entrance. A digit slips inside, stretches him wider than ever—

and he cums.

The squelching is almost unbearable, but it’s so damn hot knowing that sound is what’s got Lance feeling like a firecracker now as his own load streaks up the sheets underneath him. He swivels his hips back to chase the pleasure from that extra fullness that finger brings.

“ _Uhnn— ohhh_ fuck yeah, push it in— push your cum in me _fuck_.” Lance looks over his shoulder to see Keith’s head hung back in bliss as he rubs that finger along his cock and against Lance’s walls. For a moment, the idea of getting a mirror to hang on the opposite wall returns to his mind, just to catch a better view of everything and have it burned in his memories to take to the grave.

He feels some of the wetness leaking out of his hole and onto his thighs, even down his balls that tense weakly at the sensation. He then reaches down to cup them before fondling around and riding out another wave of pleasure at just how good the slick feels. More strips of cum spurt onto the sheets, and he swears that every presumably nasty sound somehow makes him revel in the feeling even more.

The cock inside him continues rocking back and forth, stirring up all the cum into a nice froth. He wonders if, given that they keep going, Keith could fill him up enough to make that low part of his belly distend a little; the extra blurt from his cock at the thought of that is pointedly ignored.

“So full…” he mutters and clenches tight again to slow the inevitable leaks.

Keith hums. “What a good hole, taking this cock so nicely, wish you could fucking see this.”

“Gonna need a camera for that,” he responds absentmindedly while his eyes flutter closed in content.

Silence. Keith twitches weakly inside him.

“Mmm I shouldn’t have said that…”

  
  


Lance ends up riding Keith’s face with a clammy hand gripping the edges of one of their phone-sized tablets, getting himself off to clips of his _own asshole_ drinking up the next load of cum Keith forced inside. It’s undeniably hot, watching proof of one of the many reasons the praise he gets is honest and hard earned. He rides out another orgasm when Keith’s tongue sloppily fucks into him at the same rhythm Lance jerks his own cock to the video.

“Yeah right there— right there! _Hmmnn_ _agh!_ ” he breathes out in punches as white spatters up his torso and his thighs quake from exertion. “Gonna have you do this sometime too, know you want it baby,” he says with a chuckle, and the mouth devouring away turns sloppy from a moan.

He looks back at the video where his asshole expands and contracts deliciously around Keith’s thick length. It looks fucking amazing from this angle, enough for another weak spurt of cum from fisting his softening cock before his fiery limbs beg to fall limp after all their strength was tested.

There’s just enough energy to give Keith’s ruffled hair below him a gentle tug as the post-orgasm softness washes over him.

His body and the atmosphere is buzzing with content, and those waves of October take their reign over his awareness that Keith, indeed, personifies the season he’s so in love with.

Keith wipes away all the smeared remnants of their bliss with his discarded shirt from earlier, from the mess of slick around his mouth to all the sticky (and progressively gross) spatters along Lance’s torso. He’s quiet, as per usual when his mind often wanders after sex and turns from his wolffish instincts to something more tender, like a loyal, glossy-eyed puppy.

“You’re cute,” Lance says as he lifts a finger to tuck those stray bangs aside and watch Keith soak up all the plains of his body as he’s doted on like this. The tablet is set aside and locked now, their evidence stowed away into the digital equivalent of a box in a box in a— yeah. Ridiculous, yet he’ll be referring back to it come time.

Keith glances up at him now with his brows furrowed strangely. “Dunno what to say to that…” he trails, then cleans up the last drips along Lance’s thighs and tosses the filthy cloth right into the hamper across the room. Yet there’s no standoffishness in his reaction.

And this is the part where Lance can say his envisionment of an evening walk with Keith will hold true regardless of all the boy’s brash confidence from before. He would still tuck his hands away and follow Lance’s directionless babbling with an adorable, intent gaze. And his boots, whether the ones he wears now or a more _fashionable_ pair, would plod down the pavement just in time with Lance’s own eager steps.

Everything about him comes together quite seamlessly, he’s both the sand and the sky and the water, and the calm lonely greys to warm sultry reds in a glass of wine.

But Lance has made do with space for so long he aches for those rich saturated parts of fall time and the possibility of curling up together under a thick woven blanket rather than the flat, plain sheets provided in the castle. He wants sweaters and candles and jazz music and stupid Halloween decorations and _birthday sex_ because c’mon…

He’ll never be tired of Mission Beach and it’s existential wisdom leaving chills down his spine. But it was (still is) away from his town back home, space is away from home, and he and _Keith_ are away from home where the soft lights and music are simple mundane distractions from sand swept epiphanies, or the mental crises that a castleship thousands of light years away could readily offer.

“Just wanted you to know.”

None of it makes sense, but then again, it’s not meant to. The beach served no other purpose than for him to make of it what he must, as does the rest of the world.

Keith smiles. “Well I guess I do now,” he says softly, then tilts his head close enough to press a kiss behind Lance’s ear before murmuring “ _I love you._ ”

He holds onto the promise that October will return in its ongoing intervals, with plenty of autumn’s on earth to look forward to. And the world, as well as his infatuation for Keith, will not stop its countless forms of infinity for a second.

“I love you too, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> You guys cannot be too horny to leave me some feedback 😭 send this fic some love ❤️


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